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This article was written by DeltaStriker. Please do not add to it without the writer's permission.
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| Shadowlands | |
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| Story | |
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The Shattered Peace Continuum, Ga-Metru
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The following story serial is incomplete, and will never be completed. It is preserved for archival purposes. See the Notes below for more information.
Shadowlands is an story set in the Shattered Peace Continuum, with most of the action taking place in Ga-Metru. It was written by DeltaStriker.
Story[]
Chapter 1[]
The Onu-Matoran stepped into the murky tavern. The sign on the front had proclaimed this place to be home to ‘the best ale in Po-Metru’. So, like all Onu-Matoran would have done, this one decided to check the place out.
A quick glance confirmed that the tavern was your average Po-Metru establishment. The place had minimal lighting, tables dotted haphazardly across the room, and way too many drunken Matoran.
The Onu-Matoran worked his way across the room over to the bar. Plopping himself down on the nearest stool he signaled for the bartender.
“I’ll have some of that ale you’re apparently so proud of,” he said. The bartender nodded and turned to get the drink.
The Matoran’s name was Garan, Private in the Army of the Metru Union. He was on leave from his regiment, like so many other soldiers. Teridax’s forces in Ga-Metru had remained quiet for so long that some thought the big guy himself must have died.
The bartender retuned carrying an overflowing mug of ale. Garan took it and gulped down a sip or two, almost causing him to gag. The stuff was potent, and Garan knew he would not be having seconds.
Garan glanced over his shoulder to examine the others in the tavern. There were Matoran from almost every Metru here, even those that had fallen victim to the attacks of Teridax’s brotherhood. Ga-Matoran waitresses in skimpy armor brought refills to the already drunk customers.
Garan turned back to his ale. Taverns like this were not the worst places to spend your time, but they certainly were not the best.
A Fe-Matoran sat down to his right and ordered the same thing that Garan had. Garan scooted slightly to the left, having heard some disturbing stories involving Matoran of Iron who had consumed too much drink.
Garan took another sip of his ale, pretending to ignore the being beside him. The bartender walked back, obscuring Garan’s view of the wall. The Onu-Matoran shifted his gaze to the liquid in his glass, not wanting to look at the overweight Po-Matoran’s backside.
“Hello,” the Fe-Matoran said cheerfully.
Garan cringed. So much for ignoring him, he though bitterly.
“Name’s Trev,” the Matoran continued. “What’s yours?
Garan turned to face Trev. The orange Matoran had burn marks scattered across his armor, and his Noble Kakama was covered in soot. “Why do you want to know?” he asked.
Trev shrugged and looked away. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “I guess I just like to meet new people.”
Garan sighed inwardly. Younger Matoran had a way of making you feely guilty. Some called it a Pokawi face, though Garan found the figure of speech strange for two reasons; one, he was never looking at the Matoran’s face when it happened, two, in his opinion the flightless birds referenced were not something he would feel guilty about ignoring.
Garan took a deep breath. “My name is Garan, if you must know” he said.
Trev returned his gaze to Garan. “Nice name. I’m-”
“Trev,” Garan finished for him. “You told me already.”
Before Trev could reply a loud crash sounded from behind them. Garan spun, his hand instinctively reaching for his Zamor Sphere Launcher only to grab at empty air.
“Damn!” Garan swore under his breath. His weapon was still in the barracks back at base, as civilians were not allowed to own firearms. If a drunken Matoran was rampaging around, Garan would have preferred to have a weapon handy.
He scanned the room, his sharp eyes looking for the source of the noise. He wished that he could actually use his Kanohi Ruru, something he desired rather often.
Another crash sounded to Garan’s right. The Onu-Matoran swiveled his head in that direction to see a drunken Ko-Matoran tossing chairs at the wall. He sighed and began to walk over to the Matoran.
“Excuse me,” he said calmly, “but you’re making to much noise. Stop throwing the chairs and sit on them.”
The Ko-Matoran turned so he facing Garan. “Whah did ya just say?” he asked, his slurred words confirming what Garan already knew. This Ko-Matoran was drunk and had to have been sitting in here drinking all day.
“I said that you need to stop,” Garan said, putting an edge in his voice.
The Ko-Matoran shrugged, picked up another chair and threw it at the wall, sending bits of wood flying in all directions.
“I told you to stop,” Garan said firmly.
A wicked smile appeared on the Matoran’s Kanohi Matatu. He reached down for another chair.
All the control Garan had had over his temper evaporated in a second. He swung his fist forward into the Ko-Matoran’s face, cracking his Matatu and sending him flying across the room.
A stunned silence fell over the tavern as Garan cracked his knuckles. Ignoring the stares the Onu-Matoran walked over to the counter, scooped up his mug and flipped a widget onto the counter.
“Sorry for any damage,” Garan said as he walked out the door, mug in hand.
Garan pressed his palm against the pad, allowing the machine to scan his hand. A small chirp informed him that the door had been unlocked.
The old wooden door creaked on its hinges as Garan swung it open. The interior of the room was sparse and dismal, as if it had not been cleaned in years.
Then again, that might be the case.
The Onu-Matoran entered his temporary dwelling, flicking on the lights. Placing his mug on the end table Garan sat down on his couch. As his head hit the cushioned back of his seat a wave of fatigue came over him. He was asleep in minutes.
A loud thump pulled Garan from his slumber. Startled, he looked around. Sitting in the chair across from him was a Toa in red armor.
“What? How did you…” Garan began, ignoring
The red Toa pointed in the direction of the door. “Forgot to close your door,” he said casually. “Anyone could have gotten in.”
Garan swore under his breath as he walked over to the door. He pushed it shut and turned to the intruder. “So what do you want?” he asked.
The Toa got to his feet. “I am Vakama, Toa of Fire and General in the Union Army.”
Garan instantly snapped to attention. Vakama was one of the most renowned field Generals in the history of Spherus Magna.
Vakama chucked. “At ease, soldier.”
Garan nodded and sat back down. “I’m sorry sir,” he said. “You weren’t what I expected.”
“I am not what most people would expect.”
“True.”
Vakama sat back down. “Now Garan, I have a very important matter that I wish to discuss with you.”
Garan’s mind flashed back to the scene in the bar. He gulped.
“You must understand that what I am about to tell you is highly classified information and can not be repeated to anyone.”
Garan nodded. This had nothing to do with his encounter with the Ko-Matoran then.
“As you know,” Vakama began, “Teridax has Ga-Metru in the palm of his hand, planning to use it as a staging ground for his invasion of Spherus Magna itself. However, he cannot proceed with his plan unless he can stabilize his position in Ga-Metru.” The Toa of Fire paused. “This means our allies in Ga-Metru are in great danger. They must be evacuated before Teridax sends an army to wipe them out.”
Garan shrugged. “I fail to see how any of this is classified or how it involves me.”
Vakama sighed. “I want you to lead the evacuation team.”
The Onu-Matoran jumped to his feet. “Me? I’m just a Private. There’re are thousands of other Matoran and Toa who could do the job just as good, if not better, than me.”
“No Garan, I want you.”
“But why?”
“I have my reasons.” Vakama said, rising to his feet. “I have already assembled your team, though I have had a little trouble finding them. I need you to locate the two whose names are circled.” He handed Garan a sheet.
The Ruru wearer took the sheet from Vakama’s hand. Just like the Toa had said, two names were circled.
Kazi and Paux, Garan thought. “Never heard of them,” he commented.
Vakama shrugged. “I believe they are both here, in Po-Metru.” Then he turned, heading for the door.
“Wait!” Garan called. Vakama turned to face the Matoran. “What do I do after I find them?”
“Meet me at the Toa Shrine in Ta-Metru,” he answered. Then he turned back to the door.
Garan watched as the Toa of Fire ducked his head to avoid smacking into the doorframe. The General was kind enough to shut the door on his way out.
Garan sat back down, staring at the names written on the sheet in his hands. The best place to find these guys would be back at the Tavern he was at earlier. The Onu-Matoran cringed at the thought of going back there, but he was familiar with the layout and he needed to start somewhere.
That and I probably should return this mug.
It was almost 1000 by the time Garan walked into the tavern the next day. The place had not changed much since last night, with the exception of the new chairs in the corner where the Ko-Matoran had been.
He weaved his way over to his seat from his last visit. Sitting down, he placed the mug on the counter. The bartender quickly walked over to him.
“Water,” Garan requested.
The bartender nodded, picked up the mug and walked away. Garan sat on his stool, hunched over the counter as waited for his drink.
“Hey!” a voice called from behind him.
Garan winced as he recognized Trev’s voice. The Fe-Matoran plopped himself next to Garan, much to the annoyance of the Onu-Matoran.
“Hey,” Garan grunted.
The bartender returned with Garan’s water and took Trev’s order. He then hurried back to the stores.
“So,” Trev began. “I’m assuming you’re from the army?”
“Yes,” Garan said, taking a sip of his water. Despite the murky coloring the drink tasted fine.
“Thought so,” Trev continued. “The way you reacted to the sound of the chair shattering showed that you have at least a little of military experience.” The bartender returned with Trev’s drink, which the Kakama wearer accepted gratefully. After taking a sip, he continued speaking. “That sort of thing happens all the time ‘round here. The owner decided it would be easier to replace the chairs then to potentially anger the customers by forcing them to stop.”
Garan suddenly had an idea. “So, you come here often?”
“Yep,” Trev replied. “I’ve been a customer here for over a decade.”
“Ever met someone by the name of Kazi? I need to find him.”
Trev stared at him. “You’re kiddin’! Kazi’s the guy you tangled with last night. If I were you, he’d be the last person I’d be lookin for right now.”
Garan turned back to his drink. This was going to be a lot harder than he had anticipated.
Characters[]
(In order of appearance)
Notes[]
- Shadowlands was originally written in late 2012, intended to be the first part of a multi-serial story that never materialized. In 2017, the original story was cleared to repurpose the article for a story set in DeltaStriker's Afterverse continuity of the same name, but those plans never came to pass. In February of 2021, the original story was restored to it's incomplete state for archival purposes.